


Orpheus and Eurydice

by holographicghost



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Anyways yeah, Damien Thorn - Freeform, Dead Parents, Drug Addiction, Fake Dating, Implied Dating, M/M, also Damiens here, but its okay, come read it, craig tucker - Freeform, craig's dead, creek for LIFE, drug addict! tweek, i love hell, mostly implied things, or in this case death, other tags will be added with chapters hows that, pip pirrup - Freeform, real dating, sad pip, stolen things, sub plots, tweek tweak - Freeform, uhhhhh cult members, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 15:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13484484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holographicghost/pseuds/holographicghost
Summary: The ironic part was that he had better ways of finding this information out





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys ^_^ this is a multi chapter fic- unless I decide too delete it. Chapters will be short

He knelt on the carpet in his new living room, a big cardboard box in front of him, unwrapping ornaments. It had been a few weeks since Craig, his supposed boyfriend of nine years, had passed away.  
And it still fucking hurt.

It was just like this town to send presents to the grieving boy, despite his obvious wishes to be left very well alone. The day after the funeral, he woke up to find a package at his door. It contained a movie set and a box of tissues. Movies. Documentaries.  
Of space. Craig’s favorite.  
The love struck kids wanted Tweek to watch these and cry at the thought of his dead lover, as if he wasn’t trying his best already. The fault of the town is that they fabricated so much, part of him hopes that Craig just faked his death to get away from it all. To stand away from those crowds he hated so much, even if it meant leaving him. Leaving the one who wanted to die already, who had already accepted everything, the one afraid of so much.  
Tweek threw the movies away.

His boyfriend had always hated nonsense, bored of fantasy. He was very math and science, and wanted so badly to be an astronaut. Not that he’d be able to, he had turned down college for in favor of staying and taking care of a very drug addicted Tweek for the last few years of his wretched life. He had about two years left, according to the doctor. That was five years ago, and he feels like he’s living on borrowed time. Borrowed from someone who deserved it more than him. He wasn’t supposed to outlive his boyfriend, he was supposed to die at sixteen and leave behind a grieving boyfriend and a barbie doll mom, the latter of which was half dead already. The former of which was going to be, as soon as he got the news. 

Craig died by being hit by a car. As if a fucking car could kill him, Tweek thought. No, it had to be something else. Something… divine had intervened. Something powerful had to have pushed Craig, pushed the car, something, anything. Tweek was going to find out what.  
And he felt as though he was going to soon enough.

 

There was a knock on his door that made him get up from his place on the floor. It opened and in stepped a person in long robes carrying a box.  
“Brother, it is time for your ceremony,” Says a calm voice, dazed. Tweek nods and looks solemnly to the floor. He’s getting into heaven, going to see Craig again. But first, he’s going to find out how to avenge him.  
Revenge comes before happiness,  
always.


	2. Pip needs a hobby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about uhhhhhhh Pip pirrup. That guy thats in south park for some reason????? Like, he's from a dickens novel.... what is this tomfoolery?  
> I shall get back to Tweek soon dont worry!

Meanwhile, a teen around Tweek’s age was walking the sidewalks on a foggy night. The echo of his shoes the only notable sound except for the rustles of bushes and the occasional car driving past. The boy did not look at the cars, the cars did not stop for the boy. All was the same for a young Pip Pirrup, which was how he liked it.  
…

The pen wasn’t worth stealing, but I did it anyway. The whole way home I kept looking up at the sky. It helps to look at the stars when you’re upset, because then you can imagine they look back at you. I keep asking the sky for help, for guidance. I suppose the stars do not have very good hearing though, because no matter how hard I try, I never feel like they’re listening.

I loved movies when I was younger, they were so fun and always had a happy ending. I was so optimistic then, that everything had happy ending. I want to think it still does. That everyone finds their true love, that everyone learns a lesson, that some parents will love their children. One day, I am going to open a store on the seaside and play music through the speakers and sell tea and crumpets and everyone that comes in will read a book and say hello. I am going to have a reason to smile some day.   
But for right now, I am walking home with a stolen ballpoint pen tucked underneath my shirt looking at the sky. It’s a nice night at least. It’s always a nice night when I can get out of the house. 

I stopped walking when I noticed that I had come to the bad side of town, the part of my walk where I usually sped up a little, and made sure to be very cautious indeed.

The bad part of town had originally contained the McCormick’s house, if it even classified as a house. Then sodosopa came and went, leaving the place beyond the south park ghetto full of abandoned buildings and stores. This became rife with gang activity, and with that came a constant fear of running into something with a…. bag over his head? Or a mask. Anyways, whenever someone comes at you with a weapon, it is part of common instinct to move, regardless of what is on his face.   
Tonight I was not in the mood to deal with nearly being stabbed. So I did something else, something that did not involve that possibility.

…

The graveyard was pretty. Flowers everywhere, the scent of chamomile in the air, and fog misted over everything, coating it in milky white. Most of the flowers had been planted by me myself, as I come here a lot, and as long as I don’t run into the new grave digger-who lives in a lovely cottage closer to the woods- I should be completely fine and safe here. 

When I was younger, I used to sleep outside in front of my parents gravestones and imagine they were here with me, petting my hair and singing me to sleep. I probably would have frozen most nights, except for the old grave digger giving me blankets after I had fallen asleep. He was a nice man, and he used to have kids too. I think they died. Maybe that was why he looked so sad all the time. When he told me he was moving away, I cried for a long time. He was like an uncle to me, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him going away too. That was when I had terrible foster parents, they used to yell a lot. They used to do a lot worse things than yell sometimes, too.

“Hello Mother, Father. I brought you a pen to make up for my absence. I imagine it must have hurt to be away from me for so long, wasn’t it? I do so wish I didn’t have to leave, if everything had worked out, I could have stayed here forever. Then again, if everything had worked out, you would still be… here with me. I do so apologize for waiting so long after I got back to talk with you. But here it is, something to prove I’ve got a backbone...  
I must be getting back now however, as it is getting later by the minute and I still have a lot of chores to do in my new home. I got emancipated, did you know that? Yes, I have finally become old enough to live on my own. Although it doesn’t matter now, because I am almost eighteen already you know. It pays to age out of the system, yes? Anyway, good night mother and father. I love you”  
I stopped, and after a long pause, added “Say nothing if you love me back.”  
And the tombstones were silent.   
Thank god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments keep me both writing and happy. Or at least, inspired to write another chapter. Hint hint.

**Author's Note:**

> comment you cowards  
> I need feedback for this


End file.
